


Happy Fourth of July, Rook

by finefeatheredfriend



Series: Why Can't We Be Friends? (AKA Wholesome Shorts) [4]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Cute, Domestic, Fluff, Fourth of July, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 20:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19471579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finefeatheredfriend/pseuds/finefeatheredfriend
Summary: Earl does something special to help cheer Rook up.





	Happy Fourth of July, Rook

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this one super quick since I just got the prompt today and wanted to post it on the 4th. My apologies for typos.

Rook jerked upright from a particularly horrible dream, her heart racing at the sound of explosions.

“Peggies are attacking the jail again!” she yelled to anyone in earshot as she snatched up her rifle and sprinted toward the door. She kicked it out of her way and rushed outside in nothing but her tank top and flannel pajama bottoms, only to hear Earl say some truly foul words she rarely heard him use.

“Goddammit, Boshaw, you fucking jackass! This was supposed to be a surprise. When God asked if you wanted any brains you must have thought he said ‘trains’ and asked for a slow one! You absolute shit-headed nimrod, I oughta, er, oh, uh, hey Rook.” Whitehorse turned bright red, caught in the act of so much cursing. Sharky, to his credit, was silent and looked genuinely apologetic.

“What the hell is going on?” Rook asked, annoyed that she had been pulled from sleep and there was no immediate danger. Her hands were propped on her hips and she heard sniggering behind her coming from one of the Cougars named Candice. Rook realized belatedly that her pajama bottoms had fallen partially down, revealing underwear patterned with little sundaes that read “Lick Me Until Ice Cream” across her backside. Rook tugged her pajamas back up, beet red to rival Whitehorse’s embarrassed flush. She cleared her throat. “Ahem. Anyway, what is going on?”

Whitehorse rubbed a hand down his mustache sheepishly.

“We’re just, ah, we were, um,” he trailed off, looking a little miserable.

“Sorry, Dep,” Sharky interrupted, stepping forward, “I told Whitehorse I would make you some new special explosives and we were gonna give ‘em to you as a surprise so you can go blow Jacob’s stupid face off with them. One of ‘em accidentally got away from me.” The look of relief on Whitehorse’s face was so profound that Rook knew Sharky was lying for him.

“Uh, huh. Well. I’m going back to bed.”

“Why don’t you sleep in tomorrow, Rook? It’s late and you need more sleep than you’ve been getting lately. I’ll come wake you, alright?” Rook nodded tiredly and stumbled back toward her cot, taking extra care to hold her saggy pajama bottoms upright as she passed Candice. The brown-haired woman winked at her flirtatiously as she passed.

“Gonna have to get myself a pair of those,” Candace called after her.

\---

“Hey, hey kid, time to wake up. You gonna sleep all day?” Rook grumbled sleepily and stretched, grinding her fists into her eyes and yawning violently. Whitehorse was standing at the doorway of the cell she had slept in and he looked excited about something. Rook sniffed.

“What is that?” she asked, eyes widening at the familiar scent.

“Why don’t you come outside and see?” Whitehorse gave her a toothy grin, clearly quite pleased with himself. Rook stepped outside after she had dressed and realized with a shock that the entire backyard of the jail had been completely cleaned. Gone were bloodstains and broken bits of cars and other junk. Someone had even taken the time to mow the grass back here. God, how long had she slept? More than the cleanliness, she noticed the tables. There were several tables of varying lengths and heights set out on the lawn, from card tables to picnic tables to old school desks. Atop all of them were set tacky red, white and blue decorations, including American flag paper plates and red and blue Solo cups. Most of the tables held crockpots or foil pans full of food. Casey Fixman and Chad Wolanski were tending two enormous barbeque pits. Whitehorse handed her a beer in a blue Solo cup. “I know it’s a bit early for you, but consider it a breakfast beer and consider yourself off duty today. It’s nearly one in the afternoon, anyway. Rook?”

“Wh-what is this?” she asked, incredulous.

“Well, I guess you haven’t been keeping an eye on the calendar. It’s the fourth of July.” Rook turned to her boss, eyes glittering.

“You remembered? You remembered my parents’ Fourth of July party they always used to throw.” Before they had died, Rook’s parents always planned and hosted the county’s largest Fourth of July celebration, complete with a massive fireworks show. Everyone from the county would pile on to their ranch property, bringing various dishes and alcoholic beverages. Rook’s father and Gary Fairgrave had always cooked the barbequed meat that served as the main dish for the event while Earl and Charles Boshaw II arranged the fireworks show with Earl mostly acting as the voice of reason to Boshaw’s pyromania. It seemed that trait ran in the family. The celebration had become a Hope County tradition and was sorely missed after Rook’s parents had passed away.

“Of course I remembered, Rook. I’m just an old softie.”

“I’ll say you are,” Kim chuckled as she walked up. “Whew, I’m so tired of this,” she commented, balancing her plate on her enormous belly. Rook chuckled and gave her a small hug. “The meat isn’t quite ready yet, but there’s cubed cheese and some fresh apples if you want some, as well as some coleslaw and potato salad. Hurk brought his famous bacon mac and cheese if you really can’t wait for real food.”

“Thanks, Kim,” Rook smiled, taking a drink of her beer. Rook looked around at all of her friends gathered there and she greeted each one, her heart rising as they wished her a happy fourth of July and chatted with her, talking about anything except the cult.

When, at last, the barbeque was ready, Rook piled her plate high and sat down next to Sharky, who offered her some of his homemade Jell-O salad, which turned out to be grape Jell-O cubes drenched in mayonnaise. Rook politely but firmly refused a second helping. Like a wild animal encountering a city for the first time, Jess snuck into the festivities, hood still pulled up, looking like she would stab the first person to look at her sideways. She relaxed when she saw Rook and a little shy smile spread across her usually gruff features. Rook felt her chest go a little hot and felt the warm flush of a buzz settle over her as she watched Jess approach.

“Hey, Jess,” she greeted, voice cracking. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Hey, Jess.”

“‘Sup, hoe?” Jess responded, flopping down next to her and snatching a rib from Rook’s plate. “Shut up, Boshaw,” Jess said as soon as Sharky opened his mouth.

“Well, damn, Jess, fine, be that way. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come by my place and watch _Robin Hood_ with me later but shit, never mind.”

“I said ‘shut up,’” Jess repeated, deadpan, but Rook could see humor in her eyes. Sharky was about to stalk off sullenly but Jess stopped him. “Nobody said you could go, dumbass.”

“I – why are you so mean to me?” Sharky bleated.

“I dunno. Probly cuz it’s fun,” Jess shrugged, taking a sip of Rook’s beer now.

“Hey!” Rook objected, snatching the cup from Jess’ hand. “Get your own.”

“Go get me one,” Jess commanded imperiously, but then she put on those puppy eyes. Dammit. Rook rolled her eyes and stood, grunting softly when Jess playfully smacked her on the ass.

“Well, now I’m really confused,” Sharky admitted. “And aroused,” he added.

“Shut up, Sharky,” Jess said again as Rook walked off.

Rook returned with Jess’ beer, flirted for a bit and moved on to chat with other friends, happily taking food and drinks that were offered and generally having a very good time. Eventually Whitehorse beckoned her over, his cheeks rosy from the beers he had put away. His hat sat forgotten on a chair next to him and Rook was careful not to sit on it as she joined him, instead moving it onto their table, avoiding a puddle of barbeque sauce and a mound of spilled coleslaw.

“Well, what do you think, Rook?” the contented sheriff asked her. She smiled softly and put her hand on his for just a moment.

“I think it might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. How long have you been planning this?”

“Oh, for a little while, now. Since the last time we went fishing, at least. Thought you could use a morale boost. You’ve been doing great work out there, Rook. I know I said it before, but I’m damned proud of you.” Rook swallowed hard and tried to hide the tears that welled unbidden in her eyes.

“Thanks,” she said thickly. “Sorry,” she cleared her throat. “Allergies.” Whitehorse didn’t comment, just tipped his beer to her and then took a swig. Collecting herself, Rook looked down the table to where Adelaide was flirting with one of her guns for hire. “I guess that never panned out?” Whitehorse flushed, but he smiled a bit.

“A gentleman does not kiss and tell, Rook,” he replied seriously.

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” she answered with a chuckle, remembering the little red and purple marks Earl had done a poor job of hiding under his shirt collar a couple weeks ago. Deciding not to say anything more on the subject, Rook took another swig of her beer and looked around. Evening was beginning to fall, stars already twinkling here and there. Fireflies buzzed merrily in the distance over the oxbend of the Henbane that ran behind the jail. Rook looked fondly over at Whitehorse through the haze of about a dozen beers. “Dad would have loved this. Mom too.” Whitehorse nodded solemnly. Rook chuckled. “Do you remember that year Boshaw’s granddad accidentally lit the backyard on fire and we had to get the entire volunteer fire department to put it out?” Earl barked a laugh.

“How could I forget? That was a mess of paperwork.”

“The only thing that could make this night better is some fireworks,” Rook said wistfully.

“Funny you should say that,” Whitehorse commented, rising to his feet with a groan, his knees clicking. He grabbed his hat off the table and Rook opted not to point out that he had drug it through the barbeque sauce. “Come with me,” he told her, gesturing for Sharky to join them.

\---

The first rocket goes off with an earth shattering _BOOM_ before it explodes into a blossom of white, silver and blue sparks. Sharky keeps lighting the fireworks he has made, some of them whistling, some of them spluttering, some of them letting out pops and booms that reverberate deep in Rook’s chest. Whitehorse puts his arm on her shoulder in a fatherly embrace.

“Happy Fourth of July, Rook.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.”


End file.
